


Cross-Cultural Communication

by BainAduial



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: M/M, Ridiculous Use of a Children's Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BainAduial/pseuds/BainAduial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone issued a challenge to the Marcus/Neroon Yahoo Group to incorporate the children's game "Telephone" into a fic. Well, this doesn't, but it IS what happened when I tried to answer the challenge... Nothing but silliness from start to finish. I'm not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross-Cultural Communication

Zack Allen took his duties as Garibaldi’s second in command seriously. Babylon 5 was a big station, and the chief couldn’t be everywhere. Zack made it his responsibility to be where Garibaldi wasn’t, lurking in the shadows, talking to people. He knew he wasn’t the brightest crystal in the box, he never had been, but in his job, that could be an asset. People told you things, when you looked harmless and kind of dumb. And if those things turned out to lead you to other things, so much the better.

So when Zack got a tip-off that a serious fight was going down in the recreation area the Rangers liked to use, he got there as fast as he could. No reason to bother the chief until he confirmed it; it wasn’t like serious fights were uncommon in the rec areas, after all. Most of the time, it was just a little sparring turned ugly, and everybody could be separated and calmed down without much of an incident. He wasn’t expecting anything more than the usual; so far as he knew, the chief’s favourite pain in the ass was still laid up with broken ribs.

Or so he though, until he stopped just beyond the doorway to watch the station’s Ranger, Marcus Cole, matching a fully armoured Minbari Warrior blow for blow. Zack wasn’t real good at identifying Minbari, especially from behind, but he’d bet good money Marcus’ opponent was none other than Neroon, the guy who’d inflicted the broken ribs that were supposed to be keeping Marcus out of action.

“Why do you insist on this?” Neroon asked.

“Because you’re there,” Marcus snapped back, irritated and out of breath.

“Anla’shok Cole, if you could not defeat me healthy and with a cause driving your actions, you surely cannot beat me having just emerged from medlab and without a reason for the fight,” Neroon pointed out reasonably.

“I may have just emerged,” Marcus gasped, “But I can still run you ‘round the floor!”

“Enough,” Neroon declared, collapsing his pike. “You aren’t healed yet. If you must face me again, we will do so when you are at full strength.” He bowed and turned, exiting on the other side of the facility from Zack.

“Bloody Minbari,” Marcus grumbled, panting. He stood for a moment leaning on his pike, then followed Neroon out. 

Zack, shrugging, decided to finish his round. Wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d seen in his time on B5, not by far, and if Marcus wanted a rematch with the guy who’d beaten the hell out of him, Zack could understand that.

***

“Hey, Zack!” Ivanova called, seeing the security officer enter the officer’s club a couple of days later. “Come have a drink!”

“What’s the occasion?” Zack wondered, flopping into a chair at the Commander’s table.

“Today, it’s been two weeks since anything has seriously threatened this station, its inhabitants, or my sanity,” Ivanova answered. “It deserves a drink. Do you know how many times that’s happened since I came on board? I could probably count them on one hand!”

“No kiddin’,” Zack agreed. “It’s been quiet around security, too. Not even any good fights to break up. There almost was a few days back, but it ended up being nothing special.”

“Oh?” Ivanova asked.

“Yeah, just Marcus getting impatient. Said something about his just ‘merging wasn’t any reason why he couldn’t kick the other guy’s ass. Minbari said that they’d take it up again when Marcus was healed, though, so we even got a break there,” Zack slurred, drinking and talking at the same time. It was the first break he’d gotten all day, despite it being quiet, and he wasn’t going to waste time.

“Marcus was fighting a Minbari again?” Ivanova asked, concerned. “Is he trying to restart the war?”

“Nah,” Zack disagreed. “Looked more like a pissing contest. I think he and Neroon are still trying to figure out whose is bigger, if you get me.”

Ivanova shook her head. “Men. Buy you another round?” 

“Hey, sure, but dinner’s on me,” Zack agreed cheerfully.

***

“Ah, Good evening, Commander,” Lennier greeted, coming upon Ivanova as she leaned on the balcony rail over the Zocalo. 

“Hi Lennier,” she answered. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“Oh, I’ve been quite busy. The political forms necessary to change Delenn’s status now that she’s become Entil’zha are quite involved,” Lennier informed her. “As well as the steps necessary to ensure peace with the Warrior Caste, since Alyt Neroon was so clear in his objections to her rising to that position.”

“What do you think of Neroon?” Ivanova asked.

“He is one of the finest Alyts of the Warrior Caste,” Lennier answered. “His reputation is without reproach. I have heard that to be asked to serve aboard the Ingata is considered a very high honour. He is from a very old family, and believes very strongly in our traditions, even those of other Castes.”

“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” Ivanova grumbled.

“Ah. I see. I am afraid I do not understand the question, then,” Lennier admitted. “Perhaps you could clarify?”

“I meant, personally. What you think of him.”

“I have told you, Commander.”

“No, you told me what his reputation was, and what his family was like.”

“To Minbari, they are the same thing,” Lennier explained. “I am sorry, Commander, but that is all the answer I can give.”

Ivanova shook her head. “All right, all right. But you think he’s a good man?”

“I believe him to be honourable and just, although at times misguided. May I ask why you are seeking clarification of Neroon’s temper? I would have thought, given recent events, that you would desire to know as little of him as possible,” Lennier commented, puzzled.

“Zack told me something a few days ago,” Ivanova said. “I’ve been wondering about it a bit ever since.”

“May I ask?” Lennier enquired. “Perhaps I may clarify things for you.”

“Maybe you can,” Ivanova admitted. “He ran into Marcus and Neroon sparring in one of the rec areas. Marcus said he didn’t care if he’d just merged, he could still wipe the floor with Neroon. Or something similar.”

“You are certain he used the word merged?” Lennier asked seriously.

“Well, Zack said he did. I wasn’t there myself,” Ivanova confirmed.

“This is a most auspicious moment, then,” Lennier smiled. “My most profound congratulations.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Marcus was pursuing you, was he not?” Lennier asked. “For him to declare in public, while fighting a known enemy, that he was merged, can only mean that he was performing one of the Warrior Caste rituals that lead to marriage. He must prove he is capable of defending his mate, regardless of circumstances, and he must do so in view of witnesses. Usually it is quite an honour to view such a thing, but as –”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Ivanova cried. “I don’t know what Marcus told you, but we’re not together! Not at all! I don’t know what ritual you think he was performing, but neither of us is Minbari, so you can keep your ideas to yourself!”

Lennier frowned. “I do not understand. Marcus is Minbari, by adoption through the Rangers. If he was not performing the defence ritual, then the only possible answer is that he… no. I am certain that is not it.”

“What, Lennier?” Ivanova snapped.

“Well, when two of the Warrior Caste with to declare their intent to marry, then they stage a fight in public, to allow everyone to see they are capable of matching each other in battle. Such a public declaration is usually followed by an announcement of their courtship, and a celebration of their impending unity. But no such announcement was forthcoming.”

“Zack said that Neroon left the fight, told Marcus they could pick it up again when Marcus’ ribs were healed…” Ivanova trailed off. “Are they waiting the announcement until Marcus is healthy enough to protect himself, if the Warrior Caste comes after him?”

“It is possible,” Lennier confirmed. “But Mr. Allen has inadvertently robbed them of that chance. According to Minbari custom, a public declaration, however unwitting, is binding. It would be very difficult to take such a thing back.”

Ivanova shook her head. “Only Marcus. Well, I suppose I’d best go plan the party.”

“Party?” Lennier enquired. 

“Human tradition, Lennier. When our friends are about to get married, we throw them a party. I wonder if I can get a unicorn-shaped cake anywhere?” she muttered, moving off into the crowd. 

Lennier pondered that parting comment for a moment, then shrugged. Sometimes he just didn’t understand the humans. He smiled to himself. And so it begins, he thought. Neroon will be glad. Schooling his smile into something a bit less sly, he moved off to meet up with Delenn. This was news she would not appreciate hearing from elsewhere.

***

Marcus mistrusted cryptic messages. He mistrusted them even more when they appeared on the Babcom unit in his quarters, left by Susan Ivanova, instructing him to go somewhere without giving a reason. However, on the off chance that they’d found him a useful occupation while he waited to finish healing, he supposed he’d better turn up. So here he was, in a little-used lounge on the command level not too far from Sheridan’s office, straightening his uniform and trying not to wonder about what they needed him for.

“Susan?” He called stepping into the room. “What did you need?”

He blinked as lights came on all around him, extending his pike and readying himself for a fight before realizing that the room was full of the people he’d come to call friends, and a banner reading “Congratulations Marcus and Neroon” had been strung from the ceiling.

“Dare I ask?” he wondered, standing up from his crouch and tucking his pike away again. 

“Zack told us,” Ivanova said, offering him a glass of something that at least smelled non-alcoholic. “You don’t have to worry, we all support you.”

“Thank you for that,” Marcus responded, completely confused. “But what exactly are you supporting me in?”

“Your courtship!” Sheridan declared boisterously, clapping him on the shoulder.

“My what?” Marcus gaped.

“Come now, Marcus, there’s no need to hide,” the captain smiled. “We all know, and we think it’s wonderful that you’re taking such a big step. I almost didn’t believe it when Susan told me, but she said Zack told her and Mr. Lennier was good enough to explain the Minbari colloquialisms to her.”

“Forgive me, Captain, but what exactly did Mr. Allen hear?” Marcus wondered.

“Why, that you and Neroon were merging!” Sheridan exclaimed. “I must say we were surprised, given the circumstances of your meeting, but Lennier was quite sure of the ritual you were conducting, staging a fight in a public area before you were fully healed.”

Marcus paled, looking wildly towards the door for an escape just in time to see Neroon walk through it, Warrior arrogance fully in place. The Minbari halted a step into the room, his eyes scanning the crowd and decorations warily before fixing on Marcus. Marcus returned his stare, unsure what to say.

“Anla’shok?” Neroon asked.

“Alyt Neroon,” Marcus returned, voice sticking in his throat as he struggled to come up with an explanation.

“Why’re you so formal, Marcus?” Susan asked, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “I know you’re new to this, but you don’t usually use your fiancé’s title,” she continued in what she probably thought was a conspirational whisper.

“New to this?” Sheridan asked, having overheard the conversation.

Susan nodded at the cake she’d found, which was indeed vaguely unicorn-shaped, if one assumed the baker had never seen a unicorn, or, in fact, any earth-bred mammal of the equine variety.

“Really!” Sheridan enthused. “Well, that just makes this better! Now, Neroon, I’m afraid that as Marcus’ commanding officer, so to speak, I’ll take the liberty of standing in for his father. What exactly are your intentions towards our Ranger?”

Neroon shook his head slightly, still looking to Marcus, who was slowly turning even more interesting shades of red and trying to disappear into his uniform. None of this made any sense, even for the humans. What did an oddly shaped pastry have to do with anything?

“I believe there’s been a mistake, Captain,” Marcus offered when the silence had passed beyond uncomfortable and was heading right for the same level of humiliation as appearing for your duty shift in your undershorts (which situation Marcus had also been in, after a mildly un-called-for prank upon his being selected as Durhan’s student over several Minbari candidates. It had proved, more than anything else, that humans were capable of the dedication required of Rangers, although Marcus wished someone else had been used for the object lesson.) “Mr. Allen clearly misheard us. Neroon and I hadn’t thought –”

“I would like an explanation,” Neroon demanded impatiently, “Before you make statements about what I may or may not have intended.”

“Mr. Allen misheard a comment which led him to believe we had plans to merge our lives, Neroon,” Marcus offered quietly in the Warrior Caste tongue. 

“And you believed you could deny this for us both, when the announcement has clearly already been made to those you consider family?” Neroon growled back.

“Ranger traditions aside, I am not Minbari,” Marcus insisted. “There’s no loss of honour. We never made any official statement…”

Neroon waved him off, and turned to Sheridan. “You may ask your questions, Captain.”

Sheridan grinned. “Good. What are your intentions towards our Ranger?”

“I intend to treat him with the respect due his rank and accomplishments,” Neroon bowed slightly to Marcus. “They are considerable; few Minbari could stand against me for as long as he did, or with the injuries he suffered. Such Warriors are rare, and treasured.”

Sheridan’s grin grew wider. “Good. And you’ll be gentle with him?”

Marcus’ blush grew worse, and Neroon frowned in confusion. “I do not understand. Marcus is a Warrior.”

“He’s inexperienced,” Susan offered with a wicked twinkle in her eye.

Neroon frowned. “At?”

“Love, Neroon!” Sheridan crowed. “You’ll treat him right, I hope?”

Neroon shook his head. “You are labouring under a common misconception, Captain. The Warrior Caste does not treat love any less seriously that the Worker and Religious Castes; we do not take casual partners. It is a matter of some pride to wait for a good match, as well as a test of discipline.”

Sheridan’s eyes bugged out, and the room went quiet, Marcus’ friends staring back and forth between the two of them.

“You mean you’re both…?” Susan wondered.

“Yes,” Neroon answered. “Such is common among my people.”

“Good Lord.”

“Can we please move on?” Marcus demanded. “You’ve made a bloody mistake, and this conversation is pointless! We have no intention of getting married! Bloody hell, what do you think his Caste will do? What do you think I’LL do, leave the Rangers to become a bloody househusband? This is completely barmy! You’ve all gone ‘round the twist!”

Blank stares met him on all sides, but before he could collect his composure well enough to restate himself in slightly more usual English, they were interrupted again.

“I’m afraid the announcement has already been registered with the library at Yed’oore,” Delenn smiled, entering the room. “We may discuss your duties once you are healed fully, but Rangers are not barred from marriage, and you will not be the first to serve with the Caste of his spouse.”

“What?” Marcus yelped in shock, staring at her. “How can it be registered?”

“I had thought you did so, but I see this is not the case…” she trailed off, looking suspiciously at Neroon. “Alyt?”

Neroon’s face finally cracked, and he chuckled. “Very well, I admit to scheming. You think my command of the human language is so good I came up with the word ‘emerged’ in the middle of sparring, Anla’shok Cole?”

“You… you planned this?” Marcus gaped.

“I did. I would be honoured to have you as my mala, Marcus.” Neroon was smiling, but his eyes were quite serious.

“That has to be the most subtle, twisted, conniving proposal on record!” Marcus exploded. “I can’t believe you thought that would work!”

“Except that it did,” Lennier pointed out, hiding behind Delenn and hoping Marcus never discovered that he’d been in on the whole thing, from taking the rumours of a fight to Mr. Allen to convincing Commander Ivanova of the possibility of a match between the two men. “My most sincere congratulations, Marcus,” the young priest smiled.

Marcus threw up his hands, and gave in to the inevitable. The Universe was conspiring against him again. However, he thought, looking up at the laugh lines crinkling around Neroon’s dark eyes, perhaps this time he’d get to keep the thing he was coming to care for.


End file.
